LOKI
by Alydia Rackham
Summary: Yes, he had allowed the Jotuns into Asgard. But he had not counted upon starting a war. Or Thor's banishment. Or watching his entire world unravel in front of him. This is "THOR," from the point of view of Odin's second son. NO SLASH. Tie-in to Fallen Star.
1. Chapter 1

**LOKI**

_Yes, he had allowed the Jotuns into Asgard. But he had not counted upon starting a war. Or Thor's banishment. Or watching his entire world unravel in front of him. This is "THOR," from the point of view of Odin's second son. NO SLASH. Tie-in to Fallen Star._

LLLLL

_This story is dedicated to those who have traveled with me on this great adventure—and who will stay by my side as we discover new territory._

_I have been looking forward to writing this for a very long time, and I have put quite a bit of thought into it. Therefore, I will begin with a great deal of back-story, which I believe to be crucial to our dear Emerald Prince's character—vital to understanding how he ticks._

_I hope you enjoy._

_-Alydia Rackham_

LLLLL

_Throughout almost all of this chapter, I listened to the Thor soundtrack "Science and Magic."_

_LLLLL_

_PROLOGUE_

Loki's eyes snapped open. He sucked in a gasping breath—it tore through his chest. His vision would not focus, no matter how hard he blinked. Blurred, dark shapes punctuated by brilliant dots passed over him. Panic grabbed him. He took another breath. It snagged.

He exhaled a sharp cry. His voice sounded like a slap—raw and close in the silence. He ground his teeth as needles of pain danced across the ribs of the right side of his chest and back. He screwed his eyes shut, forcing himself to take quick, shallow breaths, even as faintness threatened to take him.

Sensation began working its way down through his limbs again, like water through frozen pipes. There—he could feel his arms, now his fingers. They clawed downward into dusty sand. His legs lay crooked, a large stone between his feet. His green cape draped halfway across him, like a blanket haphazardly thrown over a prisoner. He opened his eyes again.

His vision cleared. Black sky replaced the dark blur. And stars—sharp points of white—replaced the flickering lights.

Loki frowned hard, his brow twisting, as he stared upward. The sky looked wrong; it looked—

Another wave of throbbing washed through him, and his hands came up without his consent to press against his chest. Again, he made his throat unlock, he closed his eyes, and forced his mind and breathing to calm so he could retrace what had just happened.

And he lay there in silence, wracked with agony, staring up at foreign constellations and blinking away the cold tears that ran down his temples.

_CHAPTER ONE_

_Centuries Earlier…_

"Fee, fi, fo fum—I smell the blood of an Asgardian…"

Loki hesitated, stopping in the pool of light beneath the torch that hung just outside his brother's bedroom. He pressed his little hands against the stone wall near the doorframe, tilted his head, and listened to his mother's low tones wander into the dark corridor.

"Be he alive, or be he dead," she went on gravely. "I'll grind his bones to make my bread!"

Loki gulped, eyes widening.

"And what did Fenris do?" Thor's eager voice darted out—and Loki heard his bed squeak as he leaned forward.

"He stayed exactly where he was, hidden inside the Frost Giant's icy cupboard," their mother assured him. "Holding his breath and praying that the Giant would not have a sudden desire for salted beef…"

Thor giggled.

Loki crept forward, close to the slightly-open door, leaned against it, and peeked around it.

Their mother sat on Thor's bed, wearing her long, purple velvet dressing gown. Her golden curls tumbled down over her shoulders and back, and her dark eyes bright and warm with amusement. Thor sat facing her, wearing his red nightclothes, tightly hugging his pillow. His wide blue eyes fixed on Mother's face, his own gold hair tousled. Lamplight from the flame on Thor's nightstand bathed them both in a soft, quiet glow, accentuating Thor's freckles and making Mother look otherworldly—angelic.

"Then what?" Thor demanded.

"Well," Mother leaned a little closer to him. "Fenris knew then that he would never escape back down the grape vine while the wicked giant lived—not with the silver lute, anyhow. Somehow, he would have to trick the Frost Giant. Now, Fenris was very clever—_very _cunning—as cunning as an old wolf! And so he thought up a lie."

"A _lie?"_ Thor gaped.

"Yes," Mother nodded.

"I thought no one was supposed to lie," Thor objected.

"We aren't," Mother said. "Unless telling the truth will endanger our own lives, or the lives of people we love."

Thor glanced down at the bedcovers. Loki frowned, weighing those words.

Finally, Thor looked up at Mother, and canted his head.

"What lie did Fenris tell?"

Mother smiled.

"Well," she said again. "He took a deep breath, then stepped out of the cupboard. 'Hello!' he called, up into the air. And the Frost Giant turned around. His footsteps shook the floor. He towered over Fenris—massive and terrible—the color of darkest ice. He looked down at the Asgardian, and his eyes blazed red, like fire. He smiled—he had pointed teeth. And before Fenris knew what was happening, the giant bent down and scooped him up—"

The door creaked.

Loki jumped back—slipped and fell down.

The door swung open all the way.

Mother and Thor turned and saw him.

"Loki, _alskling,_" Mother's eyebrows drew together. "I told you that this story is too scary for you!"

"You're telling it to _Thor_," Loki cried, suddenly on the verge of tears.

"It's too scary for you," Thor declared. "You'll have nightmares."

"Will not," Loki shot back, standing up and glaring at him.

"Will so," Thor retorted. "Go back to bed."

"_No!"_

"_Alskling_, come here," Mother beckoned. "You can probably hear this part—I'll try not to make anything _too _frightening."

Loki beamed, then raced into the room.

"Don't leave anything _out!" _Thor whined.

"Scoot over and make room," Mother reached out and pushed on Thor's shoulder. Thor shuffled sideways just as Loki leaped up onto the bed and crashed into him.

"Get off me!" Thor shoved him.

Loki slapped him in the neck. Thor grabbed him by the hair.

"I won't tell _any_ of the story to you if you don't behave," Mother snapped.

They instantly let go of each other, and turned to her. Thor folded his arms with a huff. Mother stared at them each in turn, eyes burning.

Then, her frame relaxed, and she lifted her chin.

"The Frost Giant scooped Fenris up in his huge, meaty hand, and pulled him up to hang right in front of his ghastly face," she continued. "Fenris could smell his awful, cold breath—it billowed at him like a north gale. 'I have found you at last, little vermin!' the giant cried, gnashing his sharp teeth. 'And now I shall eat you!'"

Loki shuddered hard.

"He doesn't eat him, though," Thor said in a small voice. "Does he?"

Mother's eyebrows went up, and she half smiled.

"Not yet," she said. "Because Fenris was able to shout loudly enough that the giant heard him. 'I would be honored to be the dinner of such a mighty king!' Fenris said. 'But before dinner, wouldn't you like some entertainment?' 'Entertainment?' The giant was confused. You see, Frost Giants are so barbaric, they never have music or dancing or anything of the kind. They hardly ever even cook their meat. 'Yes!' Fenris said. 'Music! Surely you have an instrument here upon which I can play! And I can sing to you as well! It calms the nerves, soothes the digestion!'"

Thor snorted. Loki tried to calm his shivers as his vivid imagination played all of his mother's words before him.

"The giant considered this offer. After all, he had been suffering from digestion pains for some time," Mother went on. "All because he ate three whole cows without chewing…"

Loki turned to Thor and made a disgusted face—his brother made one right back.

"Let that be a lesson to you," Mother shook her finger at them. "Always chew your food."

"Yes—I'll remember that next time I decide to eat three whole cows," Thor rolled his eyes. Loki gagged on his laughter, and Thor chuckled and shoved him again—lighter this time.

"So," Mother said. "The giant—being stupid and easily fooled—set Fenris down on the huge kitchen table, which was really just a massive block of ice, and commanded him to make music. However, the only instrument in the entire castle was—"

"The magic lute!" Loki cut in. Mother pointed at him.

"The magic lute," she confirmed. "And because of the spell upon it, only a true Aesir could get it to produce even a single note. And so Fenris sat down on a huge bit of dragon bone, took up the silver lute, and began to play. The music was beautiful—unlike any that had ever entered a Jotun castle. And he sang a low, soothing song. _'Blow, northern wynd—send to me my sweting…_'"

The boys knew the rest of the song—they sang along with their mother. Their voices mingled perfectly in the quiet of the night.

The three finished the song. Silence fell for a moment. Loki's brow furrowed as he watched his mother in the candlelight.

"Was Fenris afraid?"

Mother looked at him.

"Oh, yes," she said, nodding. "Very afraid. In fact, it was the most afraid he had ever been in his life. But the lute helped him, and the song was as familiar as his name. It helped him keep his wits, helped him think. Helped him take deep breaths, and remember his home, and the people he loved—and what he was fighting for. And as he played, the Frost Giant sat down on the floor, and slowly drifted off to sleep…"

LLLLLL

Loki's eyes opened. He stared at the ceiling of his bedroom.

Cold sweat broke out all across his thin little body, and he trembled so badly he could barely breathe. He threw the covers off himself, sat up, and gulped. He felt sick to his stomach…

Clumsily, he lifted both hands, and clapped. The sound cracked through the silence.

A little orb of green light flashed to life in front of his face, casting brilliant, cheerful, fairy-like illumination through his room and pushing the shadows back to the corners. He glanced around.

There stood his footboard, carved with winged horses. Beyond that, his toy chests, his wooden animals and swords flung out all over the rug. The window, off to his right, the curtains half closed. He squeezed his eyes shut.

A vision of the Frost Giant in "Fenris and the Vine"—blue-faced and scarlet-eyed—loomed back into his consciousness. It opened its fanged mouth, leered toward him—

Loki gasped, forcing his eyes open.

A noise.

A grunt—a soft cry.

He sat up, listening.

It came again. Tighter—like a wail.

He kicked the rest of the covers off and slipped out of bed. The little green light trailed after him, just above his head, as he padded across the rug toward his door. He reached up, pulled the cold, silver handle and opened the door, and slipped silently out into the corridor.

The torches had dimmed, but Loki's vision instantly sharpened so he could see everything clearly. He hurried across the stone, the light bobbing after, until he came to Thor's room. He paused, then pushed on the door.

It eased open. Loki slid inside. Stopped.

Thor thrashed in his bed. Let out three more urgent grunts, his hands balling into fists. Loki took a brief breath, brow furrowing, and picked his way through the maze of toys toward him.

He halted at the foot of Thor's bed, watching him in the light of the green glow.

Thor's face twisted—tears ran down his cheeks. His eyes stayed closed.

Loki's mouth tightened. Then, he came around on the other side of Thor's bed and climbed onto it.

Thor twitched.

Loki stopped.

Thor swallowed hard. Shivered.

Loki eased down next to him, onto his side, and faced Thor. The green light hovered over their heads. Thor violently threw himself to one side—and suddenly he was facing Loki. Choking on sobs.

Loki held out one hand, and touched Thor on the bridge of his nose.

Thor's eyes flew open.

Loki stared straight into his brother's vivid gaze.

Then, Thor caught sight of the friendly, bobbing green light. Startled, his tear-filled eyes flicked to it for a moment, then back to Loki.

And Thor let out a long, deep sigh. His frame relaxed. He blinked slowly, and swallowed again. He brought his right hand up, and patted Loki on the head. Then he let his hand fall down onto Loki's forearm, and his eyelashes fluttered shut. The little light hummed. Warmth seeped back into Loki's muscles, and he sank into the soft mattress. Within moments, he had fallen asleep.

LLLLL

Loki dashed after Thor and his father, back up the shining armory steps. Father's story of the fearful war on Jotunheim still rang loudly through his head. It had been a long time since Mother had told the bedtime story of Fenris and the Vine, but it still gave him and Thor nightmares. They never uttered a word of that to Mother, of course. But when Loki had just heard Thor declare that when he grew up he would kill all of the Frost Giants—and in the same moment, when he gave Loki a flashing, reassuring grin—Loki's chest had loosened, and he felt better.

Yes. Maybe when Thor did that, their nightmares would stop.

Loki's feet pounded loudly on the steps as the trio passed between the two large torches. He stretched out for Father's hand—

Tripped. Fell down on the landing.

Crashed onto his hands and knees.

Thor's laugh echoed through the chamber. Loki's face burned.

"Careful, my boy," Father advised, bending to grab him around the waist. As if he weighed nothing, Father lifted him and set him upright again. "Your feet are much too large for you at the moment."

"Big feet," Thor muttered, covering his smirk with his hand.

"I will kill you," Loki snarled at Thor, desperately straightening his tunic.

Father gave Loki a severe look and flicked him hard in the forehead.

Loki's head snapped back, and his hand flew to his brow.

"You're not to say such things to your brother," Father commanded, his voice like a lash. "And you," he turned to Thor. "Loki is simply growing too quickly—he cannot help it. He will one day be a tall man."

Loki forgot his stinging forehead for a moment, and peered up at his father.

"I shall?"

"Yes," Father nodded, glancing down at him with his single eye. "Quite tall, I would imagine."

Loki's whole frame swelled, and he sent a haughty look at Thor—who stuck his tongue out at him. Father firmly grabbed their hands, and led them through the towering doors, out into the gold, torchlit corridor, past the statue-like guards, and to the right.

"Father?" Thor asked as all of their footsteps tapped on the marble. "Where _is _Jotunheim?"

"Ah," Father lifted his bearded chin. "I shall show you."

Loki frowned, his stomach tightening again. They wove through the corridors, the flamelight flickering against the brass ornaments Father wore on his robes. Loki kept firm hold of Father's calloused hand, absently rubbing his thumb back and forth against Father's.

"This," Father said, drawing them into a tall-ceilinged side room, whose walls were draped with scarlet velvet. "Is Yggdrasil. The World Tree."

The three of them paused in the center of the floor, gazing up. Loki's lips parted, but he said nothing.

Before them, dominating the entire wall, stood a great, gnarled, twisting tree, carved in relief onto an ancient, stretching piece of wood. And in its branches, its roots, and far beneath it, gleamed fist-sized jewels, each of a different, dazzling color. Father let go of their hands and stepped toward it.

"There," Father pointed at the top of the tree—though he could not reach it. "Is where we live. Asgard." He began pointing to the other brilliant gems. "And nearby is Vanaheim, Alfheim, and Nidavellir. Beneath, there, is Midgard—very far away. And equally far is Jotunheim." Father pointed to a glimmering, cold, silvery stone on the level with Midgard. "Even further is Svartalfheim, there—and Hel, there; Niffelheim, and then Muspelheim."

Father turned to face them. Loki still stared beyond him, up at the huge, spreading tree—the smooth edges of its still, wooden leaves, branches and roots gleaming in the torchlight; the gems winking mysteriously, as if they enjoyed keeping secrets from him.

"Have you been to _all_ of them, Father?" Loki murmured.

Father chuckled. It was a deep, rich sound—and it drew Loki's attention to his father's face. Father smiled—and the skin around his eyes wrinkled pleasantly as his eye twinkled.

"I have."

"Will _we_ ever get to go?" Thor gasped, his blue gaze bright as ever.

"Certainly," Father assured him, reaching out to touch both Loki and Thor on the head. "And soon! I intend to take you myself."

Loki grinned, warmth rushing through him.

"But not to Jotunheim," Father amended. He raised his eyebrows. "Though I don't imagine either of you would want to waste any time _there_."

Thor shook his head—Loki shook his own harder.

"Good lads," Father chuckled again, taking up their hands. "Come. You must go outside and play, and I must relieve your mother of your little brother. Hurry, hurry!"

_To be continued…_

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	2. Chapter 2

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_VVVVVV_

CHAPTER TWO

The great feasting hall of the palace of Asgard rang with music and laughter, and glowed with torchlight that gleamed off the gold-gilded pillars and arches. All of the royal court, dressed in their flowing silks of pearl, scarlet and lavender, sat at the long tables, eating and drinking and passing platters. Goblets clinked, jewelry sparkled, and the scent of roasted boar and venison filled the air. Father, clothed in his dress armor, sat at the head of the table; Mother wearing white linen, sat at the opposite end—and beside her perched Balder. Thor sat on Father's right, resplendent as always. And to Thor's left sat Loki, still nursing a wrenched shoulder, but enjoying the sound of his brother and father's raucous laughter.

"I swear to you, Father, if Loki had not stepped through their ranks at that exact moment, I would have fallen to my doom," Thor declared, slamming his stein down and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Oh, I'm certain you would have come up with something," Loki smirked at him, taking a sip of wine.

"Don't be a fool," Thor countered. "I'm indebted to you, Loki—I know that."

"Then I hope you plan to repay that debt, at least in part," Father prodded. "Do you not have a gift for him?"

Loki swallowed his wine—almost choking on it—and looking up at his brother in surprise.

"I do indeed!" Thor crowed, getting to his feet, his scarlet cape tumbling behind him. "Loki—my brother—come up here."

"Oh, no, really…" Loki protested, feeling his face heat. Thor gave him a grin.

"Come on!" he ordered, motioning him forward. Loki cleared his throat, wiped his mouth on a napkin, then stood up and stepped over the bench, and up to his brother's side. Thor slung a heavy arm around his shoulders and led him up the few steps to the dais.

"What are you planning?" Loki said under his breath. Thor just chuckled, which made Loki uneasy, but before he could say anything, Thor had turned him around to face the assembly, holding him there with a broad hand on his shoulder.

"My friends," Thor announced. "Today, I set out on a quest—one that was fraught with adventure—and more peril than I had expected."

The people laughed. Loki swallowed.

"I was plunged in glorious battle, and Mjollnir's thirst for blood was quenched!" Thor went on. "But then, for the first time in my long life, I was caught unawares. The numbers of the enemy proved too great, even for my fists, and the might of Mjollnir. And even as the floor of the cavern tumbled away beneath my feet, Mjollnir was twisted from my grasp." Thor's grip on Loki's shoulder tightened, and he turned his burning blue eyes from the feasting hall to those of his brother, a half smile on his face. "But call it wisdom or luck—or perhaps some of both—I had not come alone."

The hall fell quiet, sensing a solemnity come over Thor. Loki did not look away from his brother's eyes.

"Loki, my younger brother, had walked and fought beside me in those caves, closer than my shadow," Thor continued. "And it was in that moment, when I had lost all hope, that he snatched me from the icy teeth of death." Thor gave him a warmer smile. "I fear his arm will never recover."

Loki could not help but smile that time, and duck his head, as their friends and family chuckled.

"So," Thor slapped his back, then released him. "I will endeavor to make amends by this." He reached into a leather pouch that hung at his belt, and pulled out a shimmering silver chain, by which hung a gold pendant of Mjollnir. Loki blinked as he reached out a hand and fingered the pendant.

"The workmanship is ingenious," he remarked quietly. "Who made it?"

"I did."

Loki, shocked, lifted his head to search Thor's face.

"Remember what Father always says," Thor said, glancing down at the bearded king for a moment. "There are two sides to Mjollnir. If I ask it to split mountains or crush bone, it will. But if I ask it to build or forge, it will do that as well." He paused, and gave Loki a serious look. "And I know where my true strength lies."

Loki was too stunned to say anything. And before he could try, Thor had stepped up to him, hung the chain around his neck and clasped it.

A jolt of power ran from the top of Loki's spine to his heels the instant the clasp clicked. Then, Thor wrapped his arms around him tight, taking a fistful of his dark hair.

"For as long as the east stands across from the west," Thor said, so only Loki could hear. "I will be your brother."

LLLLL

"It's splendid. Really," Loki said, sitting back on the couch near the fire pit and lifting the pendant on the chain around his neck. He let the pendant rest against his long, pale fingers, watching the firelight play off the silver knots set into the decorative, flat incarnation of Thor's Mjollnlir. It hung by a rather short chain, so he had to tilt his head to see it—but he smiled at it as he turned it to and fro.

Thor thudded down next to him, making the whole couch jump. He then dashed his hands against his forearms. His flashing armor jangled energetically and disappeared, leaving Thor in his red trousers and tunic. Thor chuckled—a sound like distant summer thunder—put an arm around Loki and gripped his shoulder.

"I'm pleased you like it."

A while ago, Loki might have frowned and nudged him away. But they had just come home—_home_, to the golden halls of Asgard, a place they had, only days ago, truly believed they would never see again. The stench of ancient caverns, the ringing of anvils and the cackling of dwarves; the ache deep in his arm from the terrible fall they _almost _took—and the residue of terror, torture and mortality—hung like cobwebs inside Loki's chest. And so, the mix of warm firelight, his brother's gleaming gift, his warm words and his strong arm about his shoulders made Loki's heart swell painfully—and he leaned _toward _his brother, just briefly, then glanced over and smiled at him. Thor returned the grin. And then, Loki sensed both their expressions fade, mirror each other—forming looks of knowing, and a bond they needn't speak of to understand.

Thor slapped Loki's back, winked, then folded his arms across his own broad chest and sat back into the cushions, sighing. Loki leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"You're keeping the beard, then?" he remarked. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Thor rub his chin.

"I like it," Thor declared. "You ought to grow one."

"Pssht," Loki waved it off. "Why would I do that? It would be like walking around with a sheep on my face."

Thor chuckled.

"You are simply jealous that you cannot grow one yet."

"I doubt I should ever want to," Loki answered. "It would ruin my profile."

Thor laughed out loud now. Loki could not hide his smirk—but he managed to keep from looking at Thor.

"How _vain _you are," Thor realized. "Your new cow-head helmet must really trouble you, then."

"I don't know what you mean," Loki said lightly. "I was too distracted by the large chicken you now have to wear on _your _head."

"It is not a chicken!" Thor shouted.

"It's not a cow," Loki warned. They stared at each other—

Then suddenly lunged. Thor grabbed Loki's unhurt arm and clamped down on it—Loki took a fistful of Thor's hair—they flailed a moment, fell back against the couch and burst out laughing. Then, suddenly struggling, they gritted through their teeth and fought to overpower each other, wrestling and kicking. They fought for several minutes, baring their teeth, tugging at hair and tunics and knocking elbows into heads.

A pillow flew out of nowhere and thudded against them. They both jerked and turned—

Balder, wearing his long white nightclothes, folded his slender arms and raised his eyebrows, canting his head at them. The firelight cast a sheen upon his long, lustrous golden hair, which framed his young, pale, handsome face. His keen, vivid blue eyes watched them, as if he could see through them, and he stepped up to one side of the fire pit.

"The whole palace is in bed," he said. "You're making noise."

"What are you, _Mother_?" Thor grunted, squeezing one eye shut as Loki clamped down on his mane. Loki winced as Thor's grip squeezed down on his arm, but bore down harder, trying to shove Thor onto the floor. It wasn't working.

"We're _men _now," Thor shot at Balder. "We don't have to go to bed yet."

"Yes, you both look very grown-up to me," Balder answered flatly.

"Doesn't matter what we _look _like," Loki hissed, shoving Thor back. "_You _on the other hand…"

"What are you doing awake, Bird?" Thor demanded, sending him an irritated glance.

Balder shifted.

Loki paused. Loosened his grip.

Thor sensed it—let go of him. They both turned to face Balder.

Loki's brow furrowed. Balder's voice was always warm, smooth—like a summer breeze. And he carried a calm, quiet strength with him, even though he was still very young.

But all of a sudden, Loki heard a difference in his tone.

And something in his face, his luminous air, had gotten colder.

In a sudden moment that startled Loki to his core, he realized that the familiar look in Balder's eyes had altered completely.

"I had a nightmare," Balder confessed.

Loki and Thor went still.

A pall fell down over them.

And the last throbs of boyishness drained out of Loki's blood.

"Nightmare?" Thor said, his voice deep and solemn. "What about?"

Balder shrugged one shoulder, and shook his head.

"I cannot remember," he answered. "Because in the midst of it, I heard you two. And it frightened me so badly—I thought I might die."

Something inside Loki's heart turned to ice. He watched Balder glance into the low flames.

Balder was lying.

_Balder._

_ Lying._

Loki's left hand closed.

"We won't make any more noise," Thor assured Balder gently. "Forgive us for waking you up."

Balder lifted his eyes to Thor's.

And Loki was stricken.

His eyes, as always, looked like chips of the sky…

But now, they flooded with such bewildered sadness that Loki stopped breathing.

Balder stepped carefully forward, put a hand on Thor's shoulder, and rested his forehead on the crown of Thor's head.

"Goodnight," Balder whispered—then turned and left, striding back through the room and out into the corridor.

Deep quiet fell over Loki and Thor.

"What was that?" Loki wondered, staring at the place where Balder had disappeared. Thor gazed there too, frowning.

"A nightmare."

"Hm."

"Must run in the blood," Thor mused. Loki didn't say anything.

Thor heaved a sigh—heavy, now. Tense. He got up, and straightened his broad shoulders.

"He's right. We should get to bed."

"Go ahead," Loki murmured, staring into the fire. "I'll stay up a while yet."

"Fine," Thor answered. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Thor departed, rubbing his eyes. After he left, Loki took a careful breath, lifted his head and gazed again at the empty doorway. Then, he turned back to the flames.

And the night reigned.

LLLLL

Loki and Thor never rough-housed again. A surge of potent relief and joy had caused a flash of childishness, an instant of innocence. But the look on Balder's face that night had shocked it back and banished it—and the gritty terror of what they had just survived resurfaced, then dominated.

And something else.

Something had changed within their little brother. Nothing earth-shattering. Nothing that their parents, or Thor, or the court noticed. But Loki could _feel _it, in the deepest undertones, whenever Bird spoke to him.

Nothing changed.

And yet, everything changed.

The tip of a long shadow had touched them. And, as the decades passed, it lengthened, deepened. The source of the shadow drew nearer, like the drawing down of dusk, seeping into the edges of their minds—until at last it was upon them.

And none had the power to escape it.

LLLLL

Loki's feet made no sound. He wore a black cloak that never rustled, though it hung to the floor. He breathed through the dark passageways like a shadow, his eyes accustomed and seeing every edge and surface.

He swept up to a corner and leaned his right shoulder against it, pausing. He closed his throat, pushed back his hood, and listened.

His lips parted. His eyes narrowed.

There.

The soft, but unmistakable, tread of bare feet against marble.

He eased his head to the left, just inching, and peered down the corridor.

At the far end of the hall stood a tall window that faced the moonrise. Silver light poured in, shimmering against the floor. And silhouetted against that light waited a frame as familiar to Loki as his own.

Willowy limbs. Loose garments. Long, angelic hair and a perfectly-formed, handsome facial profile—which now turned to the right to focus on the door to Thor's chambers.

Their little brother, Balder.

Loki took a breath. Watched.

The blue-tinted protection spell Mother had cast snapped and hummed around his body. No one else had even been able to even see it since it was cast—but its potency had grated and unnerved Loki to the point of fever.

Balder moved. Slowly. Turned toward the door, so that Loki could glimpse that he gripped something in his right hand.

Loki's heart thudded.

Yes. There it was. Gleaming in the light of the night like the smooth scales of a snake—an object Loki had seen before, several evenings ago, when he had tasted dark magic in the air.

A blade. Short and strong.

With a lethal angle and balance, and pulsing with poison.

Balder reached out with his left hand, and grasped the door handle. His whole torso faced Loki—but his head bent toward the door.

Loki stepped out from the corner. He drew a boy's bow from beneath his cloak and braced it out in his right hand. In the same fluid motion, he notched a slender arrow carved of mistletoe to the string, set its smooth shaft against his right-hand knuckle and drew it back.

The bow and string creaked quietly. Loki touched the feathers to the corner of his mouth.

He took a low, quick breath.

Exhaled.

Held it.

Aimed.

Let go.

The arrow darted faster than an eyeblink.

_CRACK!_

The protection spell shattered with a sound like a slap against slate.

_Yes —!_

Balder stood still. His left arm went slack—forgot about the door.

Loki frowned. Took half a step forward.

Balder let go of the blade.

It clattered loudly against the stone—then writhed, hissed, and disintegrated.

And Balder fell to his knees.

Bewilderment blundered through Loki's head. His chest staggered, he leaped forward three steps…

Then jerked to a halt.

Balder's legs folded beneath him, and he collapsed onto his back.

_Snap!_

A branch broke.

Or an arrow.

Loki's eyes widened—and his heart stood still until his blood congealed.

Outlined against the silvery moonlight, the end of a graceful, feathered arrow stuck straight out of Balder's chest.

And it swayed back and forth as gargling breaths rattled through his body.

Loki pelted clumsily forward, his muscles turning to water. He dropped the bow and flung out an arm, throwing a silencing shield over Balder's squirming frame—and then Loki collapsed down inside the spell, his skin breaking out with goose bumps, chills and horrid shuddering.

He reached out with his right hand and gripped the slick shaft where it jutted out of Balder's torn skin. Loki's stomach turned over, and bile stung the back of his throat. His shivering left hand wound through the fabric of Balder's bloody tunic and knotted tight.

Distant thoughts, like hollow wind, knocked against the back of his brain as he stared, entranced, at his hand grasping the quivering arrow.

How had this happened…?!

When the protection spell broke, the arrow should have incinerated…

The bow wasn't even that strong—and the arrow had no head, only a slightly-whittled bit to let it fly straight…!

Loki braced himself, bending over Balder's body, adjusting his grip to tug the arrow loose—

Balder's hand slapped down on Loki's wrist.

Loki jerked.

Balder's thin fingers tightened down so hard that Loki's bones came together.

Loki's head twitched up…

Balder was staring at him.

His statuesque face, ash-white and iron-hard, tilted toward him.

And his eyes, pale as the dawn over a battlefield, fixed on Loki's.

And Loki did not recognize him.

"I knew it," Balder hissed—and blood bubbled from his lips and trailed down his chin.

Loki's whole gut constricted, flipped and rebelled. He fought a moment, his vision blacking, then forced his mouth to work.

"What?" he choked.

Balder blinked slowly, swallowed.

"Almost all my life," he said through his teeth. "I've…had dreams. Dreams…of things to come."

Loki's attention sharpened. He could not speak.

"I…saw it all," Balder breathed, more blood leaking from his mouth. "I saw…what would happen…if I didn't…" He gagged—thrashed. Loki gripped his shirt harder. Balder's grip loosened, just minutely. His eyes rolled. His jaw clenched, and with visible effort, he opened his eyes and looked at Loki again. "I had to do…and _say_…whatever it took. And I could have ruled. I…could have steered us away from the…the edge of the abyss. I could have done it. For all of us."

Loki felt hot liquid trailing down his cheeks, but didn't heed it. Balder bared his teeth for an instant, his eyes flashing—and his grip loosened further.

"But…even this way…" Balder breathed. "It will be…accomplished. Thor can't…won't…let it happen, now. I've…I've protected Asgard. And…all the realms."

Loki's brow twisted.

"From what?" he gasped, tasting his tears.

Balder stared at him. Unblinking—cold and stark as stone.

"You," he said.

Loki's entire being froze.

Balder's eyes went blank.

Still staring at Loki—but seeing nothing.

For three eternal seconds, Loki did not move.

Then, all at once, sensation slapped him around the head.

Burning tears, searing his face, his lips, his chin.

Blood—hot blood, everywhere. All over his hands, underneath his knees where it seeped out from beneath Balder's back.

Sticky, sopping, red cloth clenched in his left hand. His right hand bound around a cold, wooden arrow.

The sickly-sweet scent of death overpowering his lungs.

He let go.

Stared down at his blood-soaked palms.

Tore at his hair—and screamed.

Screamed as if one of his ribs had been ripped loose of his body.

The silencing shield shattered.

Loki's rending howl hammered up and down the corridor.

Courtiers stirred. Commented. Cried out.

A door at the far end swung open. Lamplight spilled into the hall.

And Loki leaped to his feet, turned, and with every ounce of strength left in his limbs, he ran.

_To be continued…_

_Review!_


	3. Chapter 3

_Yes, I have been gone a long time! Please, do forgive me. I have been having a difficult time of it. But pain improves the character, so I'm told. _

_Anyhow, I am back—and I hope that you enjoy this chapter. Also, in the last section, flowers are mentioned. Those of you who know me well know that I _never _mention flowers lightly. If you wish to know their meanings, go to Google and type in "The Forgotten Language of Flowers" and see them for yourself._

_Enjoy!_

_VVVVV_

CHAPTER THREE

Loki wrapped his bloody fingers around the chains, arched his back and screamed. The cry wracked his whole body. His consciousness flickered as the iron links rattled against the wet stone. Agony needled into the base of his neck and seared across his shoulders.

Another black drop fell. It hissed as it struck the bare skin of his left shoulder blade. He wrenched back and howled through his teeth. The shackles bit his wrists. Dark blood trailed down his forearms.

He blinked away the sweat from his eyelashes and shot a glance up. His eyes could barely focus—but there, in its niche in the rocky wall, curled the massive, gleaming black snake, its immense head hanging several feet right above Loki's, its mouth lazily opening and closing, its red eyes leering, its fangs oozing obsidian poison that trickled downward over the crag.

Loki stood on a floor of jagged rocks wearing only his trousers, his wrists bound by chains to two natural pillars, his arms stretched above shoulder-level and held out to either side. Straight ahead of him, in a little grotto, bubbled a clear stream of fresh water—water he could never reach unless he tore off both his arms.

Loki's eyes caught motion overhead—his heart hammered erratically as another drop of venom hung poised on the edge.

He ground his teeth, closing his hands into white-knuckled fists as he pulled down on the shackles, trying to break the chains. The sharp metal chewed into his flesh. He did not care—the poison was worse. The poison—

It fell. It hit his right shoulder.

It was as if a red-hot shaft of steel had plunged straight down through him, penetrating his bones and lungs and gut. He thrashed, gasping a lungful of cold air, his eyes going wide. Smoke rose from the new wound and stank. Three more gasps tore through his chest, then sharp grunts tightened his abdomen. His stomach turned over—he knew he would soon be sick. His knees felt like water, and the muscles in his back and arms shivered uncontrollably.

"What—can't you bear your punishment?" a rough voice taunted from behind him. "The great Loki the Cunning, simpering like a woman!"

"Never thought I would see the day," another voice answered—they belonged to the two guards that stood a way behind him in the canyon, making certain he did not escape.

"You had better keep silent, you sons of dogs," Loki rasped, twisting his head toward them. "Or I swear I will murder you both when I am free."

"More to add to your list?" another voice cut in—but these deep tones sliced straight through Loki's heart. He jerked his head to the front again and bit the inside of his cheek. Just then, another drop of venom struck his spine.

His teeth snapped together as his arms twitched—his footing slipped on the stones. Blood filled his mouth. And for the first time, hot tears tumbled down his face.

"You think you deserve less, little brother?" that same voice thundered as heavy footsteps came up behind him. "How could you do something like this—to all of us?"

"You think I meant to kill him?" Loki gritted, blood spilling from his lips and trailing down his chin. "Truly, that's what you think. After all the ages we've known each other—you think I am a murderer."

"What else am I to think?" Thor roared. "You confessed!"

"I confessed to letting an arrow off the string," Loki said, spitting blood onto the stones. "That is not the same."

"How do you fathom that?" Thor demanded. Loki hung his head and closed his eyes, knowing that the next drop of venom loomed.

"You wouldn't listen if I told you. You are beyond listening," he muttered. Thor scrabbled around him, ducking under his arm and coming to stand in front of him. He was breathing hard.

"Try me, Loki," he pleaded. "Tell me why you killed him."

Loki lifted his watery eyes—to see that Thor was weeping too. Silver tears trailed from his blazing blue eyes and dripped into his golden beard. He wore no armor, and Mjollnir was nowhere to be seen—he was garbed in a long, thick tunic of white and black trousers and boots—and his face looked wan. Loki blinked, his tears tumbled, and more came.

"You were at the tribunal—you heard the evidence. You've already made up your mind," he said flatly, his voice hoarse.

"I have," Thor nodded, swallowing hard. "But I cannot believe it myself. None of your tricks ever harmed anyone—even Sif's hair was gotten over, but you…" Thor stepped closer, looming over Loki's head. "Tell me why."

Loki shivered, and met his brother's eyes.

"I did it to save you."

Thor's eyes flashed, and his lips parted.

Then the venom hit.

Loki hissed, his muscles in his left arm clamping so hard he had to stand up straight—his elbow bent, and his wrist spasmed against the bindings.

"Gaahh…" he choked as his quivering muscles released and the waves of pain radiated outward from his new wound, then faded to throbbing. He staggered sideways, but was caught from falling by the chains. When at last he opened his foggy eyes, more weak tears falling, he saw Thor had gone pale. Thor's brow twisted.

"I don't understand."

"And you won't," Loki sighed. "So leave me here and let me try to die with some dignity."

"No," Thor stepped toward him menacingly, and grabbed the Mjollnir necklace at Loki's throat. He bared his teeth, his eyes burning into Loki's. "No, you'll not give me an answer like that and then dismiss me. What do you mean, you did it to save me?"

Loki swallowed hard. The blood in his mouth turned his stomach sour. His vision clouded.

"Thor, I can barely see," he confessed. "And I cannot…" He swooned, then stumbled to regain his footing. He squeezed his eyes shut. "I cannot even think well enough to tell you..."

"Bear up!" Thor shouted at him. "Tell me!"

"I…" Loki started—and then his gaze jerked upward. A large droplet of venom waited just there. His whole frame shuddered.

"What?" Thor snarled. "Loki, you speak to me—"

Loki's mind lost its reason. He twitched backward, flinging his head back, trying to escape the venom. Thor's hand still grasped his necklace—his arm was pulled forward.

The venom struck Thor's arm.

Thor howled like a wounded lion. He let go of Loki. Loki's eyes snapped open and he lurched forward again, gasping.

Thor had fallen back, pressing his left hand to his right forearm, hissing through his teeth, staring at his injury.

"Are you…Are you hurt?" Loki managed.

Thor's wide eyes flew to Loki's. Loki's filled with reflexive tears. They mortified him, but he no longer had any fortitude—it had been shattered.

"I'm sorry—I shouldn't have moved," Loki rasped. "Are you all right?"

Thor's eyes raced across Loki's upper body.

"What is it doing to your shoulders?" he asked, stricken.

Loki swallowed again—his throat was parched.

"Please, brother, just go," he whispered. "Leave me here before you're hurt further. Please."

For a long moment, the brothers just stared at each other—and Loki held his gaze, studying the lines of his older brother's face, memorizing them, even as more venom teetered on the edge. It would be the last time he laid eyes on Thor—the last time he would actually see him looking back at him before his eyes shut forever and his body burned on a pyre. Loki shivered as the snake gnashed overhead, but he stayed still, and did not turn.

Thor's jaw clenched. He glanced up. Loki braced himself, fear swelling inside his chest. He clamped his hands around his fetters, determined not to make a sound this time—though his legs felt on the verge of collapse. He began to tremble as his stomach clenched. He screwed them shut, his lips quavering.

Swift, heavy footsteps sounded. A shadow fell across him. Loki blinked his eyes open—

To see Thor towering over him—and he held out his bare hand and caught the venom in his palm.

A great shudder ran through his body, and his expression twitched. Loki stared at him, stunned.

"Guard!" Thor shouted, his voice only a little unsteady. "Give me your shield."

"But my prince—"

"NOW!" Thor shouted, and the rocks shook. A guard raced up behind Loki and handed him a circular shield. Thor lifted it up, and held it over Loki's head like a bowl—

And the next moment, a drop of venom struck the metal with a dull thud.

Loki never took his eyes from Thor's face.

Thor set his feet in a strong stance, holding the shield up with both his thick arms. He lowered his head, and looked right at Loki.

"Talk quickly," he said. "I'm already tired of holding this up."

Loki's bloody lips parted, his breath jagged in his throat. But he nodded once, glanced around and tried to gather his thoughts.

"On the…On the night before Balder's coming of age," he began, trying to make his ragged voice work. "I couldn't sleep. I was walking through the palace, counting torches—as I usually do."

Thor nodded, impatient. Loki went on.

"I came across someone in the armory—it was the middle of the night, but I heard bellows pumping, and I smelled fire and magic. I went to see who was working so late." Loki took a breath. "And then I saw it—a short sword that looked like a comet. It lay on a table near the fire, so bright it lit up the room by itself. And I could feel it. Like an adder curled in the corner of a room. It was powerful, and wicked, meant for a single, swift stab. I stood staring at it, trying to understand its purpose—and then he found me."

"Who?" Thor demanded.

"Our little brother," Loki answered. Thor stared at him. Another drop of venom thudded against the shield.

"Go on," Thor ordered, though his voice sounded weaker.

"He pinned me against the wall," Loki said. "And put a knife to my throat. He told me that if I told anyone what I had seen, he would kill me. I told him I wasn't afraid of him. Then he said that he knew what I truly was, and if I didn't keep silent, he would tell everyone the truth."

Thor frowned hard.

"What you are?" he said. "What does that mean?"

"I don't know," Loki muttered, his heart twisting. "But it alarmed me. And so I demanded to know what he was doing. And he told me." Loki's throat closed. He took a deep breath, gazing at his brother. "He said he was going to kill you."

Thor's frame faltered.

"What?" he whispered.

"Yes," Loki nodded. "I told him I didn't believe it. He called me gullible, and a fool, just like all the rest of Asgard. I grew desperate. I warned him that Heimdall could see him—that even if I stayed silent, he would not get away from this unscathed." Loki's voice lowered. "He told me he had prepared for that."

Thor did not move. The venom hit the shield again.

"What did you do?" Thor asked, his brow tightening.

"Everything I could besides revealing what I knew," Loki answered, his fingers twining around the chains. "I followed him, I watched him—and I swore I would intervene if I ever saw him come near you in a secluded place. But then a new set of his dreams started."

"His dreams about dying," Thor remembered. Loki nodded.

"And the…The request he made to Mother. About magical protection," Loki said, closing his eyes and fighting against a sudden wave of unconsciousness.

"Loki?" Thor let go of the shield with one hand and grabbed his elbow. Loki blinked hard and took a breath, then kept speaking. Thor let go of him.

"He persuaded her to put that spell on him—the Mother's spell, protecting her child from—"

"From stones and spears and spells and all manner of sharpened blade," Thor finished.

"Yes. It made him invincible," Loki said. The venom dripped into the shield again.

"I thought we were undone," Loki admitted. "My last hope was the giantess in the mountains, the one who helped me make the Lokistones I gave everyone."

Thor nodded, watching him. Loki fought to keep going—his strength and voice were failing him.

"I flew to her, using my best invisibility spells, and confessed everything. She told me that the bonds of a mother's love are impossible to break, except by way of a little plant called mistletoe. And so I found some—just enough to make an arrow like the ones we used to shoot at each other when we were boys." Loki shrugged, a crooked smile crossing his face. "It wasn't even that sharp. It shouldn't have…But Balder was always fragile, and he…" Loki's throat locked. He lifted his eyes to Thor's. His brother wept.

"I didn't mean to kill him," Loki swore, his voice harsh and broken. "I never meant to break Mother's heart or make Father tear his clothes." Loki rattled the chains. "I meant to end the spell so you could defend yourself. But it went through and hit his heart and there was nothing I could do but scream."

Thor lowered his head, his breathing rocky. Then, he lifted his face again and searched his brother's.

"Why didn't you say this to the tribunal?"

"Recall," Loki said coldly, lifting an eyebrow. "They hardly let me say a word. They had already decided."

"Then where is Heimdall?" Thor demanded through his teeth.

"In the dungeons, in the fifth cell on the right," Loki answered. "When I came back with the mistletoe, I realized Balder would try to kill him too, and most likely blame it on me. And so I took Heimdall—who knew everything—down below and made him safe. I told no one."

Thor stared at him a long moment.

"We will get him out," he decided. "And we will bring him here to see if you are telling the truth. Where are the keys?"

"There are no keys," Loki said. "Just words."

"What are they?"

Loki took a breath.

"Thor lives."

Thor swallowed. Then, he lifted his voice.

"Danehall!" he shouted. "Go to the dungeons, fifth cell on the right. Say the words 'Thor lives,' and bring the cell's occupant to me. And bring me Mjollnir!"

Loki heard footsteps instantly dart off in the direction of the palace.

"Mjollnir?" Loki repeated. Thor leveled a look at him.

"If you are telling the truth, I'll break the chains," he said. "If you're lying, I'll kill you myself."

Loki clenched his jaw. There was no more to say.

In a matter of minutes, the guard returned with Heimdall. His golden presence filled the canyon. But still, Loki looked nowhere but at Thor.

"Mjollnir, your highness," the guard said, stepping up and handing the hammer to Thor.

"Hold this over the prince's head," Thor commanded, passing the shield to the guard, who did as he said. Thor hefted Mjollnir, glanced at Loki, then gazed past at Heimdall.

"Speak, Gatekeeper," he ordered.

"You must release Prince Loki," he said, his voice deep and smooth.

"Why?" Thor asked.

"Because even though he has caused the death of one prince," he answered. "He has saved the life of another. One of your brothers was willing to kill you. And the other is willing to die for you."

Terrible silence hung in the air. Pain coursed up and down the inside of Loki's chest.

"It's…It's true, then," Thor's brow twisted. "Balder meant to..."

"He did, your highness," Heimdall answered. "And he meant to execute Prince Loki, after he had been blamed for your death."

Thor staggered sideways, and fell against the wall. Loki hung his head. Long silence stretched between them.

"Go back to Father, Heimdall," Thor said faintly. "Tell him everything you've told me."

"Yes, sir," he answered, and strode out of the canyon. Thor righted himself, and turned the hammer in his hand.

"Move," he muttered to the guard. The guard stepped away, taking the shield with him.

The next instant, Mjollnir shattered the chains, vibrating and shivering them until they split apart. The shackles fell from Loki's wrists, and the links clattered onto the rocks. Loki lurched backward, shaking them loose, then thudded into a sitting position several feet from the venom fall. He looked down at his hands. The skin of his wrists had flayed open, and his hands and forearms were covered in blood. His shoulders burned as if scalding water had been poured over them, and his entire frame was sick and pale and filled with poisonous ache.

Thor stumbled out in front of Loki, then, his breathing short and labored, he spun and hurled his hammer, letting out a bone-breaking wail. Loki's head came up just in time to see Mjollnir crush the snake's scull. The long, slithering body writhed and twitched, then tumbled like spilled water down onto the stones with a sickening splatter. The hammer slapped back into Thor's hand. He tried to heft it, then let it slip from his grasp.

It clanged to the ground. Then, Thor sat down hard and leaned back against a rock across from Loki. He made a choking sound, and covered his face with his hand.

Thunder rolled overhead. Cold drops of rain struck Loki's broken skin. He leaned his head back against the black rock and closed his eyes. Soon, the rain pelted down on the brothers, soaking them to the skin, drowning their hearing in a roaring rush. For what seemed like longer than eternity, neither brother moved or said a word—they just sat and tried to keep breathing, letting the rain cool their burning tears.

LLLLL

Loki opened his eyes. Stared at the dark ceiling. Paused a moment, focusing on one spot, and took seven long, practiced breaths. Concentrating, he purposefully released the tension in his chest. Then, he sighed. His brow knitted in dull irritation, and he heavily sat up. The tangled bed sheets rustled.

He glanced around through his moonlit chambers. Everything was in order. Every piece of ebony furniture stood where it should, every measuring instrument and every stack of books in place, every star chart neatly rolled or folded.

He released another breath through his nose.

_Now_ he knew where he was.

He turned to the left, and glanced out the balcony window. Gazed at the bright, full moon that waited silently in the sky above Asgard. Mutely marking the time of night—and the time of year.

Just past midnight.

On _that _night.

The breath Loki let out now shuddered through his bones. He brought his knees up, bent forward and rested his elbow on his knee. He covered his face with his hand.

Somewhere out in the garden, a nightingale twittered. A lonesome, mournful tune that echoed through the silence.

And from somewhere else, deeper in the palace, Loki sensed something stirring.

A minute, restless vibration traveling through the walls.

He rubbed his eyes, groaned, and dropped his hand. Glared wearily at the door of his chambers.

He muttered a curse, so low he made no sound, then pushed the covers off himself. He got up, snatched a bed jacket out of the wardrobe and wrapped it around himself, then raked a hand through his messy hair. He pulled the door open and slipped out into the hall.

He lowered his head and closed his eyes, treading through the pitch darkness by memory. His bare feet made no sound.

_One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight_…He counted the steps as he descended, arriving at fifty before seamlessly lengthening his stride into the next corridor. He turned right, then left, then right again, his head still bowed, his hands resting loosely in the pockets of his jacket. He stalked halfway down the hallway, then stopped, turned to the right and opened one eye.

Thor's bedroom door hung partway open. All was dark inside.

Loki huffed softly, rubbed his eyes again, then sat down sideways, leaning back against the inside of the doorframe opposite Thor's door. Settling himself on the marble as best he could, he lifted his left hand and snapped his fingers.

A tight, brilliant green ball of light _blipped _into existence, and hovered up in front of Loki's head. Loki sat back, and waited.

In a few minutes, rustling issued from inside the opposite room. A low, bear-like grunt. Then a startled gasp. Loud panting—panting that slowed into a moan. More rustling. The thud of feet hitting the rug. Low padding. Out of the corner of his eye, Loki saw Thor's towering form enter the doorframe of his room, and pause there. Loki continued to stare up at the little light.

Thor swiped a hand across his bearded face, then strode noisily out into the hall, his loose nightclothes swishing. He turned, and thudded down behind Loki, his left shoulder bumping the back of Loki's right as he leaned back against the wall. He bent his knees, set his arms on top of them, and sighed shakily. Loki felt it shiver through him.

"How long has it been?" Thor asked hoarsely.

"Not long," Loki muttered, staring up at the light.

"How long?"

"Thirty years."

Thor paused. Swallowed.

"You're right," he admitted. "Not long."

Loki sensed Thor stare at _the_ space on the empty floor in front of him, but Loki never turned his head. Thor cleared his throat.

"Why?" he asked. "Why was he trying to kill me?"

Loki heaved a sigh. They discussed this every year on this night, without fail. Last year, the two of them had fought, viciously, about re-canvassing the subject. But their shouting had awakened Mother, who had then begun to weep hysterically upon remembering. So now, Loki just closed his eyes briefly, and, with a surgeon's precision, re-opened the wound.

"He wanted to kill you and frame me for your murder."

"Why frame you?" Thor asked. "Why not attack you as well?"

"I can see in the dark. I sleep lightly," Loki said. "I lay spells outside my door—"

"Still?" Thor cut in.

"Every night since Tyr sneaked in and lit my rug on fire."

"We were just _boys_—"

"He only tried it one more time after that," Loki said darkly. "I believe he learned his lesson. But I'll not take chances."

Thor said nothing for several minutes.

"Why kill us at all?" he finally whispered. Loki reached up and covered his eyes.

"So he could be the king."

"But _why_?" Thor wondered, suddenly gesturing feverishly. "What did he think I would do wrong?"

"He had visions of a threat coming to Asgard," Loki murmured. "From what I understood, he had seen _you_ unwittingly allow the threat to enter."

Loki sensed Thor close his mighty hands into fists.

"He must have seen the Jotuns," Thor growled. "Planning revenge upon us for shaming them. Father tells me their king still lives. Laufey."

Loki dropped his hand, and did not comment. Thor ground his teeth.

"I will not be that king," he gritted. "I will not allow _anything_ through our gates. Nothing will threaten us here—nothing that wishes to live to see the next day. I swear it to you, Loki. You have my word."

"You shouldn't put so much stock in all this," Loki cut him off. "It will drive you mad."

Thor hesitated a moment, his attention shifting.

"What did _you_ dream about?" Thor wondered. "The same?"

"Yes," Loki folded his arms in discomfort. "Absurdity. Freezing to death from the inside out."

"No difference?"

"Tonight I saw frostbite on my skin before I woke up."

"You would think that would eventually stop frightening you," Thor remarked.

"Repetition does not make it easier, it makes it worse," Loki retorted. "If _you _had the same nightmare for five-hundred years, see if it doesn't send _you _round the bend." He adjusted, his arms tightening around himself. "Still, I'd rather know what to expect than experience any of your more _entertaining _dreams."

"I cannot comprehend mine," Thor confessed quietly. "Though _you_ were with me this time."

"And what was Idoing now?" Loki said, unable to keep the sarcasm from his tone. "Standing on a cliff having drinks with a man with no eyes? Sitting backward in a horseless chariot bumbling through a desert? Or what was it last time—being beaten into jelly by a giant green man?"

"You were fighting me," Thor whispered, as if he was not listening. "Atop a silver tower, whilst a Midgardian city burned below us. Our weapons locked, and I came face to face with you—I begged you to call off your troops, to help me. You stabbed me."

Loki blinked. An icy chill washed over him—worse than any in his nightmare. He snarled his nose, and shook his head.

"Rubbish," he declared.

"What? What rubbish?" Thor demanded.

"Why would we be fighting over Midgard?" Loki scoffed, too vehemently. "Noisy, messy, wretched little place." Loki paused a moment. Then, bile suddenly burned his throat.

He elbowed Thor sharply.

Thor twitched.

"_What—"_

"I would _not _stab you."

"I did _not _say—"

"You're a cretin for thinking it," Loki snapped.

"I did _not_ think it," Thor shot back. "I cannot help what I dream!"

"Then keep it to yourself!"

"_What _is wrong?" Thor demanded, twisting toward Loki. "This is no different than any other of my—"

"It _is_," Loki barked, his heart starting to pound. "You've never accused me of—"

"I did _not _accuse you," Thor cut him off. "I am just telling you what I saw—"

"Shut up about it," Loki gasped as his pulse thudded in his throat, head and wrists, battering around inside his chest. "I refuse to sit here and listen to—" He got his right knee under him and lurched to get to his feet—

His vision blinked. His stomach turned over. He lashed out, and grabbed Thor's broad shoulders.

"Loki, what is it?" Thor snatched at him, getting up on his own knees and clamping his hands onto Loki's arms. Loki took fistfuls of Thor's night shirt, fighting to draw breath, his head swimming.

"What is wrong?" Thor demanded, leaning his head closer. Loki glimpsed his burning blue eyes, caught in a ray of moonlight. Loki swayed, his whole body weakening, and his forehead bumped his brother's. He clenched his fingers tighter, swallowed once, twice—again.

He forced himself to his feet. Thor staggered up after him, keeping tight hold of his arms.

"Loki—" Thor tried.

"Leave off," Loki rasped, shoving him away. "I'm…I'm going back to bed." He blinked rapidly, staring down the dark hall, and passed a hand over his face. Tremors raced through his bones, but he braced himself up and strode into the darkness, his footsteps loud on the tiles, silence falling in their wake.

LLLLL

Loki stood, motionless, his hands clasped in front of him. His gaze fixed on the lone, white marble marker several feet in front of him, near the edge of the cliff. The wind gusted through his hair and clothes, and he glanced up. Beyond and below the cliff lay a short stretch of ancient woods—and beyond that reached the silent, gray sea. The sky matched the muted shade of the water beneath it, and the air smelled of brine. Loki lowered his eyes to the marker again, his face stony.

The marker bore no name. No initial, no symbol.

But all of Asgard knew its meaning—and rarely did anyone visit its forsaken hill.

It marked the day their youngest prince burned upon the ship's pyre, and was set adrift upon the endless sea.

It marked _this _day. Thirty years ago.

Loki took a short breath, and stepped forward without a sound. He knelt in front of the marker, reached out with his left hand, and pressed his finger into the black, wet dirt near the base. Sparks darted from his fingertip and into the earth. He lifted his hand.

A little, twisting aconite plant sprang up from the ground, and leaned against the marker before it burst into yellow blooms. Loki studied it a moment, then pressed his fingers to the dirt again.

This time, up rose a snarl of bee ophrys—and its blossoms opened like jaws. Loki swallowed, his gut tightening. And, one last time, he touched the earth.

Asphodel pushed its way up through the dirt and hardy grass, and swept up the marker, its flowers opening painfully, its leaves drooping mournfully.

Loki remained kneeling there for several minutes, his eyes lingering on the three plants. Then, he rose to his feet, lifted his head and gazed out at the ocean's horizon. Then, he turned back toward the palace, and silently abandoned the cliff.

_To be continued…_

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	4. Chapter 4

_Sorry it has taken so long to update. Life has just…yeah. This has been cathartic, anyway._

_I hope you enjoy._

_VVVVV_

CHAPTER FOUR

_CRASH!_

Loki landed hard on his side, scrabbled out of the way—

Then glanced down toward his feet. His eyes widened.

The giant ogre's club had completely shattered the ground not two feet from Loki's left boot.

The ogre, more than four times the height of a man, roared in rage and yanked its club straight up. It slapped a stalactite loose from the silvery ceiling of the cave. The splinters of stone cascaded downward, spattering all around Fandral, who had to leap backward to keep from being skewered. Loki leaped to his feet, quickly scanning the cavern. Deeper into the dark throat of the stone chamber lay five gray-skinned ogres in heaps, all dead or unconscious, their blunt weapons lying limp in their clawed hands. To his left, not far away at all, the mouth of the cave gaped, and the blinding white of sunlit snow blazed against Fandral, Hogun and Volstaag's armor. Those three men frantically re-gathered their dented weapons, after yet another foiled charge at the largest, fiercest ogre.

The ogre who stood with his gnarled feet planted on either side of the pedestal which guarded the treasure they sought: a chalice made of Ice Silver, the rarest precious metal in all the realms.

A metal Loki no longer particularly cared about.

He had already broken two knives on the thick skin of this yellow-eyed ogre, been backhanded into a wall so hard his chest armor cracked, and had nearly had his legs crushed into pulp. Similar mishaps and close-calls had befallen Sif, Fandral, Hogun, Volstaag and even Thor, and they _all _had wearied of the sport half an hour ago. Well. Except Thor. Of course.

"Haha!" Thor roared, grinning and snatching Mjollnir up from where it had slipped loose. Thor flung his torn cape back and bared his teeth at the ogre king. "Frustrated, are we? Give us what we came for then, and we'll leave you alive!"

The bald ogre beat his armor with his free fist—which made a terrible noise—and bellowed at Thor, showing him all of his ghastly sharp teeth. Then, he lashed upward with his club again. He struck the ceiling with the force of thunder. Loki felt the blow vibrate through the entire floor. He hopped nimbly out of the ogre's reach, back toward the others, and gave another quick look around. The Warriors Three stood together, now just to Loki's left. The icy wind of freedom blew against him from behind. He glanced back, over the snow-covered hills, winced, and turned back. Sif stood beside Thor, as always, gripping her sword.

"Very well!" Thor shouted up at the ogre. "Then we shall all come at you at once, and flay you into a thousand pieces! Will we not?"

"We are with you, Thor," Sif told him firmly—but Loki's attention sharpened on her. Her hand quivered on her sword, and blood ran down her chin. Thor had not even noticed. For an instant, Loki's heart panged for her.

The next, Loki felt a deep, penetrating _crack_.

He started back half a step. Frowned. Looked up.

"Thor…" he cautioned, holding up a hand.

Thor ignored him. He raised Mjollnir. Let out a blood-curdling howl.

The Warriors Three echoed it, and Sif raised her blade.

"_Thor—"_ Loki tried again.

Thor charged. Sif followed half a moment later. The Three hurled themselves forward, brandishing their weapons.

Loki stared upward in horror…

Then down at his friends…

As cracks raced across the ceiling.

"_Thor!" _he screamed.

The ceiling rumbled.

Loki flung out his arms. Emerald trails of magic shot from his palms and snatched at the ankles of Fandral, Volstaag and Hogun. Tripped them. Caught them.

Loki yanked backward with all his might.

The three men jerked toward him, howling in surprise, and tumbled out into the snow.

The ceiling broke apart.

Pieces rained down.

Loki dove forward, lashed out and tossed a silvery lasso around Sif's middle. With a swift jerk, he threw her back out of the way. She crashed onto the floor of the mouth of the cave and rolled.

The ogre looked above him, and shrieked in sudden fear. He stumbled backward.

Thor lunged for the goblet.

Loki dove.

Grabbed Thor around the middle, twisted, and kicked off the pedestal with both feet. Shot them back toward the entrance—

_Crack_.

Loki's vision went dark. A resounding _slap _rattled his skull.

Thor slammed into the ground. Loki slammed down on top of him.

Stones battered down all over his body—he couldn't see, couldn't hear—his whole mind hummed.

Then, all at once, everything fell still.

Except for his buzzing head.

And then there was the fact that he couldn't see.

The ground moved beneath him. Shifted.

No—that was Thor.

Thor crawled messily out from underneath him—pushed Loki onto his back.

Pebbles tumbled and crumbled all across Loki's chest and shoulders. He blinked his eyes. He could see gray and white blurs—but only out of his left eye. He coughed. His bones ached. Sounds now began to sharpen—though everything still seemed dull and heavy. Reflexively, he frowned, turned his head…

To glimpse, mostly in focus, Thor rising to his feet. He was covered in dust, his armor battered…

But a grin spread across his face. And he held up the silver chalice. It twinkled in the sunlight, as if smiling back at him.

"I have it!" Thor shouted, shaking it in his fist, then turning to grin back at the others. Loki's eyes fluttered.

"Nice catch, Brother," Thor commended, his words sounding slurred—and suddenly Loki felt his collar gripped, and he was yanked out of the stones and set up on his feet.

Desperately, he caught his balance—though his jaw locked. Fleetingly, he thought about opening his mouth to say "I cannot see!" but nausea swam through his gut, and he knew that if he opened his mouth he would retch.

"Come!" Thor shouted, shaking Loki's shoulder. "There will be feasting in Asgard tonight!"

Loki thought he heard exclamations of approval from the Three—but he could not be sure. And he still could not see out of his right eye.

"Heimdall!" Thor bellowed. "Open the bifrost!"

And before Loki could fall forward onto his face—which he felt sure he was about to do—the heavens opened, the bridge plunged downward, and the six of them were caught up into the sky.

LLLLL

Loki cursed, his hand shaking as he withdrew it from his thick locks of hair. He glanced down at his fingers, covered in blood, and swore again.

He sat, wearing only trousers, on a low stool on the marble floor of the softly-lit, domed healing room. All of the apprentice healers had left him completely alone—he had snarled at them so fiercely—and had retired for the night.

He snatched up a rag again and pressed it to the wound on the side of his head, clenching his jaw. With his left hand, he reached down into a bowl of glimmering ointments and oils, and snapped his fingers. Sparks flashed within the splashes. He ground his teeth, lowered the bloody rag and dipped it into the salve, then pressed it again to his wound.

It stung. He sucked in his breath. Tingles raced through his skull. His right eye cleared just a degree more.

A presence wandered into the edge of his notice. He lifted his head.

Lady Sif stood just inside the doorway—but she had halted suddenly, staring at him. She still wore her battle clothes, though she had removed her armor, and her cut lip and bruised cheek and eye stood out starkly against her pale skin. However, she seemed to have forgotten her pain for the moment. Loki glanced down at himself.

The black, spidery scars left from the snake venom long ago still grotesquely marked his white skin, trailing down his neck, across his shoulders and down to his elbows. Besides that, watery blood dripped from his hair down the front of his chest. Still pressing the rag to his cut, he canted his head at her and sardonically raised his eyebrows.

"Good evening, madam. Welcome to the party."

Sif cleared her throat and stepped further in.

"I just came for some poultice. I cut my arm and my face."

"I can see that," Loki noted. "Use this." He picked up the bowl and held it out to her. "Better yet, come sit and let me fix it."

She narrowed her dark eyes, giving him a poisonous look.

"I would never let you touch me."

Loki let go of the bowl. It clattered on the floor and spilled.

"Fine," he shrugged. "Let your face scar. It isn't as if it matters."

Sif flinched—stared at him with a wide, stunned gaze.

Loki's heart panged again.

Sif's eyes welled up with tears. She turned from him.

"Sif," he said quickly. "I'm sorry."

She stopped, half facing him. He lowered the rag, watching her carefully.

"It is a terrible thing, is it not," he murmured. "To be forgotten."

She lifted a trembling hand, and pressed it to her mouth. She squeezed her eyes shut, and hurried out of the room. Loki watched her go…

Then threw the rag onto the floor, hung his head, and swiped away tears of his own.

_To be continued…_

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